


a visitor at any hour

by Amielleon



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen, Harm to Children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-06
Updated: 2011-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amielleon/pseuds/Amielleon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"[T]he sage died two years later ... . At any rate, once I had eaten all of the food in the sage's hovel, I left and walked for days to find help." The boy who was taught nothing of people and nature must learn all too quickly of the world, and the consequences should he fail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a visitor at any hour

(the first day)

It is sunrise. He is studying. Teacher told him to. His work was poor last night. They didn't have time for that. Teacher says failure is laziness. Did he think Teacher had forever?

He hopes Teacher will wake soon. He thinks he has the spell right. When Teacher wakes and sees his success, he will let him have bread. Teacher is fair. Maybe with apple butter. He had apple butter when he first cast a wind spell. He thinks about this, arms crossed over his middle. No. Too slow for anything special. Just bread. That would be okay.

Teacher is always up at sunrise. Usually before. He is not up yet. If Teacher were up, he would know. Teacher is still tired from dealing with him last night, probably. He is always making Teacher angry. It takes months from his life's pan.

Waiting is hard. He hasn't had to wait in a long time. Teacher never made him wait. Teacher never waited for him. Last time he waited was in the dark. He listened to the click-click of bug feet. Sometimes he saw their big shadows in the light at the bottom of the door. He waited until the Woman was ready to deal with him. Or sometimes when she needed the broom. Waiting is much easier with scrolls. Scrolls make him think about magic.

It is bright. Teacher never sleeps this late. He wonders if Teacher left him to study more. Then if he finds Teacher, Teacher will ask him if he is done and he can show him. But he is not to leave the study until Teacher says he can. He said so last night.

He looks at the door. Teacher doesn't lock the door anymore. He lost too much time not studying. Teacher said he didn't understand why he acted like that but it wasn't worth the trouble as long as he didn't go out of the room. He listens to Teacher. Teacher keeps his promises. Teacher tells him that he is obedient at least. He wants to be obedient. Obedient is good. He needs to be better, not worse.

It is very bright and hot. The study is always the warmest room. Teacher left him a mug of water. Teacher said be very careful. He has never spilled it. He gulps down the last of it.

He thinks again about the bread. He has been waiting very obediently. What if Teacher doesn't come? But Teacher always came. He drops his cheek onto the scroll. Teacher hates that. The oil will get in the paper and the paper will fall apart. He shouldn't sleep when he should be studying anyway. He thinks that getting yelled at will be okay. That means that Teacher will be there with bread.

If Teacher is angry maybe he won't give him bread. He is wide awake and sits straight in his chair. The light casts a glow on the scroll that makes him look at it without thinking. Suddenly he is staring at the sun against the underside of a table. Above his head he hears the chop-chop-chop as she makes stew. He smells moisture and plants. It makes him want enough to reach up. Of course she barks, “Git!” and hits his hand with the flat of the knife. He knew she would. He can smell the food. It makes him tingle from his fingers to his ankles and he can't keep his mouth closed.

He wakes up and the food smell is gone. He sees the door. It is so late in the day that the sun shines on the doorknob. He looks at the shiny spot on the doorknob. He slides down from his chair. He waits for the dark moment to pass. He walks to the door and puts a hand on the doorknob. It is warm. It doesn't make a sound.

He is being bad. He is hungry. It is late. Teacher isn't there. He's scared. He opens the door.

The hallway is empty. It is just like it always is. He steps very carefully anyway. He looks at the door to Teacher's room. It is closed. He isn't allowed in Teacher's room. Once Teacher was sick and he brought him food and water. That was the only time he went in his room. Maybe Teacher is sick again. If Teacher were sick he would yell. He wouldn't yell very loud but he would hear it. Teacher's room is very quiet right now.

He goes to the kitchen and opens the pantry. He finds a chair and climbs on it to reach the basket of bread. It has been a long time since he took some by himself. Then there were mice in the study. There aren't usually mice in Teacher's house. That was how Teacher found out. He got very angry. He said he put a spell on the bread. It would make his insides twist up if Teacher didn't let him have it.

He takes the towel off the basket. There is a loaf and a half. The bread smells rich and good. His stomach clenches like a fist. It hurts. Maybe inside-twisting wouldn't hurt as much. He looks hard at the cut end of the bread. He finds a knife and cuts a very thin piece. It's as wide as his little finger. Teacher can't tell very small differences. He says he's getting old. When you get old things happen, like not seeing well.

It doesn't take very long to eat the slice. He looks down at the bread. Maybe Teacher can't tell if he cuts a little more. But maybe he can. He thinks about that time, with the mice. Teacher was so angry he brought out the bigger rod. He puts the towel over the basket and the basket on the shelf. He stops by the water barrel on the way back to the study. Everything is quiet. Hopefully Teacher never notices.

The spell doesn't take very long. He holds his hands against his chest. It burns and churns deep inside him. But he was right. Inside-twisting doesn't hurt as much.

(the second day)

He wakes up past sunrise. Teacher isn't scolding him. Something is wrong. He looks at the door again. His heart beats fast. He wonders where Teacher is. Is he in his room? He thinks about taking a look. The Woman would've been angry. She said just do what I tell you. She said don't bother me. Teacher's rules are study hard, stay focused, and do it right this time. Maybe Teacher uses her rules too. He made sure never to break them. Maybe Teacher doesn't use her rules. He can't imagine that.

He looks at the scroll. He already finished this one. Teacher wouldn't want him to waste time. Teacher would give him another scroll. He hops down from the chair and goes to the bookshelf. He looks at the books and scrolls. But teacher wouldn't want him taking a book himself. He goes back to the desk. There is the book from last week. _Inter-Anima Spirit Theory_. It's Teacher's book. Every few months, Teacher had him read it. It never made any sense. Teacher got quiet-angry. Teacher said, "You need at least fifteen years of study and experience, but we'll make it happen in five."

He opens the book. If he can read this book, Teacher will be very happy. He will give him lots of bread with apple butter for sure. He reads. He still doesn't understand. He's hungry again. He reads the first page again. The sun reaches the doorknob. Teacher said he had magical talent but talent wouldn't make him smart. He bites his lip. His head hurts. He looks at the doorknob. Maybe Teacher left to find another boy. One who's talented and obedient and smart. Then what would Teacher do with him? He doesn't want to go back to her. He likes being with Teacher. Teacher is fair. Teacher will look at him. Teacher doesn't make him wait. Except today.

His eyes are hot. He is hungry and thirsty. His insides twist, but not like yesterday. He goes to the door. He turns the knob and it opens. That makes him feel better.

The hallway is very quiet. Something smells bad. Worse than the water closet yesterday. Worse than Teacher's breath when he was sick. Maybe Teacher is very sick. He knows this smell. He tries very hard to remember. It was when he was waiting, a long time ago. Then he remembers standing outside the closet. She had a broom. She swept some rats out of the corner. She whined and covered her mouth. The rats didn't try to run. It smells like that.

He looks at Teacher's door. His insides twist. He's scared again. He walks down the hallway and puts his ear to the door.

He did this once when the Woman made him wait. If he tried very hard, he could hear her breathing. He knew she was there. He can't hear Teacher breathing. There's a different sound, like humming. Maybe Teacher's not here. He puts his hand on the doorknob. His heart beats very fast as he opens the door.

It smells very bad. First he is glad, because Teacher is in bed. Not away finding another boy. Then his eyes widen. He thinks Teacher will wake up at the sound of the door. He will be angry. But Teacher doesn't move. It smells very bad. The humming comes from the flies. There are a few on Teacher's face. Teacher doesn't swat them.

Something is wrong. He walks slowly to Teacher's bedside. Teacher's face is puffy. Maybe from the bug bites. He's scared. If Teacher wakes up angry it will be okay. He reaches out and nudges Teacher's arm under the blanket. It's very hard. Teacher doesn't wake up. The flies hum. It smells bad.

He wants Teacher to wake up right now. Even to yell at him. He puts both hands on Teacher's shoulder and tries to shake him. That's how Teacher woke him up.

Teacher doesn't wake up. Not even to tell him to go away. Teacher doesn't even push away his hands.

It smells very bad. He goes out of Teacher's room because it smells too bad. He closes the door quietly. Teacher won't notice when he wakes up. He won't be angry. He hopes Teacher wakes up soon. He's scared.

He goes back to the study. He still smells that bad smell on his hands. His stomach feels empty. He isn't hungry.

(the fifth day)

It smells worse. It's very hot. Yesterday he opened the shutters. The sun hurt his eyes. He stuck his head out and breathed. In a few moments his eyes hurt less. He looked at the plants. They went on and on. It was like looking at another world. The wind blew in. It was warm, but not hot. It smelled good.

Today there are a lot of bugs. Most of them fly around. Some land on him. He hits them away. Their bites itch. He doesn't like them. They make his arm puff up. He's scared he will become like Teacher.

Teacher won't wake up. He knows Teacher won't ever wake up. He looked in Teacher's room this morning. Teacher is full of bugs. They crawl in and out of his skin. He doesn't want to go into Teacher's room ever again.

He eats the whole loaf of bread. His insides twist very badly. He lays on the floor with his hands on his chest. He wants to throw up. He tries very hard not to. Maybe he will throw up his insides. He stares at the floor. He tries to think about the floorboards. Teacher isn't awake but he punishes him anyway. His heartbeat feels funny. Maybe he will throw up his heart. That would hurt a lot.

His insides start to untangle. His heart is still very light. He stands up carefully.

Two days ago he studied. He thought he should. If Teacher woke up, he would want that. Yesterday he studied. It made waiting easier.

Today he looks at the pantry. The bread basket is empty. The jar of apple butter has been empty all along. There is a big barrel with the gray grit that Teacher used to make bread. He takes a bit and puts it in his mouth. Dusty and dry. He chews it. Hard against his teeth, like wood. He swallows it. It's not food. There is no food in the house. Every other week Teacher made bread. Teacher won't wake up. When Teacher made bread, he always told him to study. He doesn't know how Teacher made bread. He looks at the gray grit. He thinks maybe Teacher used the grit. He doesn't remember very well.

There is no food in the house. Teacher always made sure there was food. Before Teacher, a lot of times there was no food. But she would bring more home. Teacher brought food home too. Three times a year, Teacher left for a week to go to the market.

He wonders where the market is. He goes to the front door. He opens it. He looks very hard. He tries to imagine a market. He looks for anything that could be a market. All he sees are plants.

There is no food in the house. In the market there is food. He doesn't know where the market is. He hasn't been outside since Teacher brought him home. He isn't hungry yet. She always told him to stay out of sight. He closes the door.

Teacher isn't telling him to do things. Every day, he waits. He hates waiting. Sometimes he studies instead.

Today, there is no more food. He needs to find some. If Teacher were awake, he would put food in the pantry. He wishes Teacher would wake up. He knows Teacher won't wake up.

When Teacher was awake, he was mostly angry. But sometimes he wasn't. On the road, when Teacher was taking him home, he gave him bread, dried meat, and some nuts. He stared at Teacher. It couldn't be. Teacher said, “Eat it. It's yours.” He had never eaten meat or nuts before. The nuts were his favorite. “Chosen by the spirits themselves! I never thought I'd have such luck.” He saw Teacher reach for him. He jerked his head away. Teacher didn't mind. Teacher's fingers touched his forehead. “We'll make something of your immense magical talent.”

He wishes Teacher would wake up. He doesn't know where the market is. He is only waiting again. When he waits he thinks about things that scare him. Things like her. And something he doesn't know but he's scared of it. He hates waiting.

(the ninth day)

The plants go on and on. He hopes he can find the market soon. He has never been this hungry. He thinks about eating the plants.

Last time it didn't work well. He tried to make stew. He pulled two plants up. One of them bit his hand. The pot of water was very heavy. When the stew was done, the pot hurt him. It made his finger red and puffy. He never felt anything like it. The plant cuts hurt, but the pot wound still hurts more. He left the pot there. Later in the day he was very hungry. The stew smelled like tea and plants. He slowly reached for the pot. The pot didn't hurt him. He drank the whole stew. It tasted bitter. He still ate all of it. The dirt was coarse on his tongue.

He felt better until night. Then his stomach hurt, his head hurt, and the stew came back up and onto the floor. He lay on the floor. His heart rippled like water. He was very tired. He breathed. If he stopped thinking about it, he might stop breathing. He didn't know what would happen then. But it scared him.

He woke up the next morning. He was no good at making food. He had to find the market. The market was somewhere outside. He didn't know where. He had to guess.

He walks through plants and plants. They scratch his legs. He found a path where the tallest plants don't grow. It's easier to walk along it, even though little plants stick in his shoes and cut his ankles. He thinks about the taste of bread. He tries hard to think about something else.

Yesterday he started to walk outside. The sun was very bright. The blue ceiling was higher than anything. He could see very far. The plants were bigger than bookshelves. He didn't want to be there. Outside was too big. It felt wrong to be outside. She always told him he should never be outside. Screaming, “Never, do you hear? You're not to be seen!” Her voice scared him. He wasn't safe. Teacher told him about beasts in the woods. They had sharp teeth. They would eat him. He was hungry. He had to go to the market.

He walks and walks. Every time he takes a step, puffed-up spots on his feet hurt. All he can see are plants. Yesterday he looked back and couldn't see Teacher's house. He was scared. He was more hungry. Today he is hungrier. Walking makes him hungry. He walks. He walks all day. The sun is hot. He drinks some water from a waterskin. It's the only thing he brought. He had thought about bringing a tome. It was too heavy.

He can see until an hour past sunset. The nights are warm. He finds someplace to hide himself. Tonight it's the middle of a bunch of short plants. He worms between them and curls up under the cover of their furry ends. He hurts all over. He's hungry. His legs are sore. They have itchy painful cuts too. His arms are bumpy from the bugs. The puffy spots on his feet hurt. He is puffing up all over and very tired. He wants to sleep. But he worries that if he sleeps, he will never wake up. Teacher was puffed up.

He lets his eyes close as he thinks. What would Teacher say about him, if he could see? He would be angry about the bread. The puddle on the floorboards too. And going far away outside. He would punish him for all of that. Maybe it's good that Teacher will never see that.

But when he was making the stew, he took a fire tome. He opened it on the floor before the fireplace. He moved his mouth the right way and he felt the spirits. He gathered them the right way and they lit the log. First try. Very controlled. If Teacher saw it, he would have been happy with him.

Now his eyes hurt too. They spill water over his cheeks. Something else is bursting-full where his stomach is empty. It squeezes and hurts. He wraps his arms around his chest to keep his insides inside him. He wishes Teacher never went to sleep.

(the eleventh day)

He wakes up to the sun. When he breathes, he feels the air fill him. Everything aches. But his stomach doesn't hurt so much. It throbs a little. His head is light. His body is heavy. He holds onto a plant to stand.

Everywhere he looks it is the same. Plants and plants. He walks where there are fewer plants. He wonders if he went the wrong way. He wonders if he went somewhere where the plants continue forever. But that's stupid. Teacher told him about the world. They are in Gallia. Crimea is to the north. Goldoa to the south. Begnion to the east. The ocean to the west. If he keeps walking he must end up somewhere. He wonders if other countries have markets. He needs to find one soon. He doesn't think he can keep walking much longer. Every step takes so much. It aches from his feet up through his legs. He's afraid he will fall. Maybe he couldn't get back up.

The sun is high. It shines through big patches where he walks. It is very hot. He feels dizzy. So at first when he sees something beyond the plants he thinks he isn't seeing right. As he walks closer it is still there. They are squares of brown and white. Houses. Maybe a market is made of houses. Then Teacher would get things from them.

Everything aches. His legs and feet don't want to go faster, but he does. There is the market! In the market there is food. His stomach does not hurt so much, but his mind is full of air and his legs hardly let him stand. He is hungry from deep inside past his stomach. He is so happy to see the market. He doesn't know what would happen otherwise.

He walks. His legs hurt. He is almost done walking.

In the market the ground is made of stone. There are many people. He has never seen so many. He doesn't want to go closer but he is hungry. He steps onto the stone. It hurts his ankles but he hardly notices. He wonders where the food is. People walk very fast around him. He watches them. They don't look at him. He is hungry. He needs food. The people in the market must know where it is. He looks at them. They don't look back. Sometimes they look toward him quickly while walking, then go on like it didn't happen. He looks down at himself. He is still here. His robe is worn. He is dirty all over. His hand still has the puffy spot that hurts. Why don't they see him?

At last someone stops and looks at him. She is an adult but not like the Woman. He looks at her. He wants her to help him. She looks back for a bit then goes back to walking. “Have you ever seen a mark like that?” she says to the woman next to her as they walk away. They talk and talk to each other as they go.

Talking. He needs to talk to them. He needs to ask them, _Where can I find food?_

He looks at a person walking by. He opens his mouth. He asks... nothing. No words come out. The person passes him.

He puts a hand to his mouth. She was angry whenever he made noise. He thinks. As long as he can remember, he hasn't said a thing. He opens his mouth. He feels his lips move over his palm. No sound comes out.

But he needs food. His legs are hungry. His heart is hungry. His head is hungry. He doesn't see any food right here. He needs them to help. When he needed Teacher to look at him, he tugged on Teacher's sleeve. He reaches up to pull a person's sleeve. It is a man with short brown hair. The man looks down and jerks his arm away like he has touched a pot that bit him. He stares down at him like she did sometimes and quickly walks away.

His heart seizes his body with its beating. What if the people here are more like her than Teacher? Suddenly he is very scared. He stands there. His legs ache. The people are all around him. He wonders if they will hit him. But even she gave him food sometimes. At least once every couple of days. He hasn't eaten in six. He looks at them, uncertain. He is scared but he needs food.

“There, that's the one.” The voice is familiar. He looks around. The women from earlier are there with a man old like Teacher. The old man stares at him, then talks quietly to the women. They make surprised faces, serious faces, and they talk to the other people. Slowly, more and more people look at him. Adults. Children not much older than him. He steps back closer to a wall. He doesn't want them to look at him like that. Something's wrong. The people are not walking. They stand back from him, staring at him.

Then one shouts, “Get out of our village!” All around him, the people start shouting. “Beast!” “Pest!” His heart pounds so hard that his vision flashes. He doesn't want to be here. He bumps into the wall behind him. “Take your curse an' git!” Their voices together are a loud angry roar.

Something bounces from the wall very close to him. He looks down. A rock. More rocks come.

They hit him on the leg. The chest. The cheek.

Run. He looks for a way to run. They are all around him. Throwing rocks.

They hit him on the head. The stomach. Each one stings.

They surround him. He has no choice but to dart toward the crowd. They jump away from him. “What's it doing?!” “That's right! Go!” The rocks follow him. On the back. The shoulder.

His foot lands on a rock. It rolls and he falls. His arms barely catch him. More rocks hit.

For a moment he's afraid he can't stand. He pushes himself to his feet with his throbbing arms. He keeps running. Across the stone ground. Between the houses. Into the plants. His legs can't run. His body is air but it doesn't have enough air. He keeps running.

Sometime the rocks stopped coming. He's not sure when. When he realizes this he stops running and looks back. His vision rattles with his heart. As he breathes he can see better. The trees almost hide the houses. He can't see any of the people.

He could barely stand. He couldn't run. He ran. Now weakness fills him. He barely catches himself as he falls onto the plants. His head is faint for air. Everything starts hurting at once. His aching muscles. The places where rocks hit him. His hollow bones. He breathes fast and loud. He is going to throw up his burst heart.

He hurts all over. He is puffing up even more from the rocks. He is exhausted. He thinks he might sleep and not wake up. First he is scared. Then he thinks it might hurt less.

(the thirteenth day)

The plant next to him is tall and full. Its leaves keep him in shade. The soil is warm and moist against his face. Everything aches. He doesn't want to move. This is an okay place to stay. The bugs pester him a bit. They swarm around his knee and his shoulder. He has scabs there, from falling and the rocks. He's too tired to make them go away. They always come back.

He waits to go back to sleep. Sometimes when he sleeps, he dreams of being in Teacher's house. He studies. The scroll doesn't make sense. The candle is very low. Soon it will be morning. He still hasn't figured it out. That means Teacher won't give him bread. Then he realizes, he has the scroll upside-down. He wakes up to plants and bugs. He wishes he could stay in that dream.

But other times he dreams of the people and their rocks. In those dreams the rocks never stop. They are worse than being awake.

He hopes he won't have a bad dream. When he thinks of having a bad dream forever, he is scared of sleeping. Then everything hurts. He thinks about sleeping anyway. Maybe it will be a happy dream he can't remember.

He doesn't know if he wants to sleep. It doesn't matter what he wants. He wants Teacher to be here. He wants nuts and dried meat and bread with apple butter. He wants Teacher to laugh and say he'd chosen well. It doesn't matter. He can't have any of it. The market he tried so hard to find is filled with people like her. Worse than her. He thinks the world is the same as the market. It won't give him anything. Except bruises.

It doesn't matter. He is going to sleep.

His body is heavy against the ground. The ground is hard against his bones. He breathes. His breathing keeps his attention, more than the bugs. The air comes in. It fills him up. The air goes out. He closes his eyes. He sees red from the sunlight. It spins in his straining head. His chest pulls air into his body. He watches his pulse flash dark against his eyelids.

He hears a sound. Rustling.

He opens his eyes. The bugs are still there. The sun and soil are still there.

The rustling comes in patterns. Like footsteps.

His heart speeds. He thinks of rocks. He remembers how it hurt.

He turns his head upward. The boy might be about his age. But much bigger. The boy spots him. “Oh! Hi!”

He watches the boy. The boy hasn't come any closer. He says, “Are you okay?” His pulse is still quick. He watches for a sign to run. “You're so skinny!”

The boy looks at him carefully. He looks back. What does the boy want?

“What should I do? ... Um... maybe...” The boy reaches in a satchel about his waist. He takes out a cloth-wrapped lump. “Here.”

Suddenly the boy comes closer and reaches toward him. With a gasp, he retreats. He didn't know he had this energy. Into his arms, pushing himself off the ground. Away from the boy's fist.

Something smells divine.

It's the lump. The corner of the gray cloth falls to one side. Inside there are two pieces of bread. Between the bread are other things. He doesn't know what they are but it smells so good. So good it's almost terrible.

He looks at the food. He looks up at the boy. The boy holds still, squatting.

He reaches one hand up toward the food. His fingers touch the soft cloth. The bread is firm. While the boy stays still, he grasps the food. His fingers brush against the boy's hands. They are surprisingly warm. Without another thought, he brings the food to his mouth and takes a bite. His teeth ache but he doesn't care. It's rich and aromatic. The food in the middle is bits of something crisp, bits of something soft. He's never tasted anything like it. He takes another bite before he even realizes he swallowed the first. It's soft and juicy. The flavors are stronger than anything he's ever imagined.

The food is gone before he knows it. He licks a few crumbs from his hands. His hands taste salty, bitter, and foul. He doesn't care. He laps them clean. The cloth too. Soon it's all gone. The world looks clearer. His insides start to _wrench_. He wraps his arms around his middle. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe. Teacher couldn't have possibly...

He looks at the boy. The boy has blue hair. When the boy looks at him, his blue eyes are wide and not angry at all. “Sorry,” he says. “I don't have any more.”

Maybe the boy is tricking him. Probably it is just eating. He wonders if it will always hurt like this.

The boy tries again, “There's more food at home. You can come home with me.” His gaze wanders past the boy. He looks at the houses beyond the trees. His body still aches. The boy nods and points to the village. “My house is right over there.”

No. There are people there. He shakes his head and holds himself tighter.

“Hm? Mom and dad will say it's all right....”

He remembers the crowd. The rocks. He shakes his head again.

“Why not?”

He looks at the boy. The boy wants him to talk. He wishes he could. He likes that the boy talks to him.

“Well.” The boy sits down on the ground. “ _Someone_ needs to give you more food.” His insides twist. But he doesn't want to lie down in front of the boy. He pulls himself up to sit across from the boy. The boy smiles at him. His stomach hurts. He tries not to make a strange expression. “Oh, and my name's Ike. What's yours?” He looks at the boy. Ike. He doesn't open his mouth. Maybe Ike will understand. “Your name. What is it?” He can write it. He just can't talk. He has failed Ike's simple request.

He looks at his feet. His toes are dirty and bloody in his ragged sandals. He brushes some dirt smooth with his shoes.

Most of the time Teacher called him Boy or You. But Teacher said he should have a name. He taught him how to write it. They didn't use it much. Mostly Teacher used it in his letters. He wasn't supposed to see them.

He presses a finger to the dirt and traces out the letters. Ike looks at it. “I'm only starting to learn the alphabet,” he says. Ike's frown says sorry. He is sorry too. “I guess you don't talk.” He shakes his head. “That's okay. My sister, Mist – it was years before she could talk.”

He can't respond, but Ike talks about a lot of things. His sister and his mom. His dad, who gave him sword lessons. How he likes climbing trees. But swordplay even more. He listens to all of it. It buries his painful stomach.

“... And I'm only allowed to have wooden swords right now. Dad says I'm not ready for real swords yet,” he says. Ike stops talking, like he ran out of things to say. Ike looks at him carefully and says, “It's been a bit. Dad's probably waiting for me.” He doesn't want Ike to go. “You're sure you don't want to come with me?” He just looks at Ike. “I can't just leave you here.” Ike presses his eyebrows together like he's angry, or thinking very hard. “Umm... will you be here tomorrow? I can come here again with more food.”

He looks at Ike. Maybe Ike won't come. Ike might go and he would never see him again. Ike reminds him of Teacher. Only proud Teacher, not angry Teacher. Ike makes him even happier than Teacher. He's not sure how. No one else is like that. Other people are like her. He wants Ike to stay. Ike can't stay. He can't stop Ike from going.

Maybe Ike will come back.

He gives a small nod. Ike gives a small sigh. A glad sigh, not angry. “Great! I'll... see you tomorrow, then.” Ike stands and looks at him one more time. He feels like he is a scroll and Ike is studying him. Ike says quieter, “See you,” and starts to go. Ike looks behind him twice as he walks out of sight.

His insides twist harder after Ike disappears. He lies back down against the plant. He wonders about Ike. In all the world only two people gave him things he wanted. Teacher. Teacher can't wake up anymore. And Ike. Ike gave him something he didn't know he needed.

He hopes Ike comes back.

(the fourteenth day)

In the morning his head spins less. He picks himself up onto his feet. His body still aches. His stomach feels hungry again. But he can walk. Yesterday it rained. He found a large, hollow plant to sleep in. It kept him dry. Today he finds his way back to the village. Although he cannot see it, he knows the right way. He has a feeling about the plants.

He finds the plant from before. The one with thick brown fingers in the ground. He sits on the ground, like yesterday. He looks at where Ike had sat. He waits for Ike. He looks at his blood-caked feet. His name has disappeared in the mud.

He doesn't like waiting here. It is close to the village. He felt safer in his hollow plant. The village is full of people who will yell and hit him. Sometimes they wander outside the village.

He waits here anyway. Ike will come here.

Something seems wrong. The bugs are loud. The village is silent. He waits for Ike. He waits a little past the right time. Then he has a bad feeling. He stands and slowly approaches the village.

Before he even reaches the first house, he sees someone. He freezes. But the person on the ground doesn't move. They're puffed up. Laying in a dark pool. Bugs flying around them. He slowly goes to the person. It is a woman. She's covered in blood. She smells bad. Her hands are pressed against a big cut across her chest. He looks carefully at her. She has become like Teacher. He might be like this today, if Ike hadn't come.

She smells bad. He leaves her there and walks into the village.

There are more people on the ground. He is less surprised this time. At a crossing, he looks up and down the streets. There are puffed-up people all over. Some are covered in metal clothes. There is a lot of blood. Bugs swarm all over. Sometimes a rat too.

He thinks maybe that's why Ike never showed up. His throat tightens. He looks at a person close to him. A small one. It could be Ike. He goes to the person and touches the shoulder. It is stiff like Teacher. The bugs whirl away like disturbed dust. The person has sandy hair. Its face is toward the ground. He pushes the person about anyway. It's heavy. It turns onto its other side, almost without changing its collapsed pose. This side is dirty with crumbling wads of blood and dirt. The skin that he can see is splotchy and purple. The face is bloated, but he looks very carefully. It is definitely not Ike. That makes him feel better.

He leaves that person there, bloody side facing up. It was heavy. So next he goes to a blue-haired child. It has a deep cut on its arm. It lays next to another person. When he pushes this one, the shoulder is soft. The head rolls a little as it falls onto its back. He looks carefully at the face. It is not puffy, so it is easy to tell that it is not Ike. Maybe the child moves. He's not sure. It doesn't matter. He goes down the street, looking for Ike. He hopes he doesn't find him here.

Once he turns over a child and coins spill at his feet. He looks at the coins. He remembers when he first met Teacher. Teacher wanted him. The woman didn't want him. But just that day she acted like she did. She said a lot about how much trouble it was to raise him. How she couldn't just give him away like that. Teacher gave her those coins. She was the happiest he had ever seen. He picks up the coins. They are at least as important as he is.

The village is much bigger than Teacher's house. It takes him hours to go through all the streets. The sun is big and soon the village smells like Teacher's house. Even though he is searching, deep inside he is waiting. As he waits, he thinks. If Ike is not here, then what? Where is he? Teacher told him about the world. They are in Gallia. Crimea is to the north. When he thinks of Crimea, it seems right. He remembers that Crimea is a country of beorc. That's why, he tells himself. He doesn't know why he's so sure. He just knows.

He turns over one more child. It is not Ike. He looks over the street and sees the overturned bodies. He is done checking. His hands feel sticky and foul. He remembers the feel of Ike's hands. His fingers passed just briefly over them as he took the food. Ike is in Crimea. So that is where he will go.

Teacher's house has no food. The markets, the villages chase him out with stones. No one tells him to do anything. He hates waiting. Instead, he will look for what he wants. In all the world only two people gave him things he needed. Teacher. Teacher can't wake up anymore.

And Ike. Ike is still alive.


End file.
